Dawna finished shuffling with a flourish—she’d learned a few new moves—and spread an array of seemingly random cards across her desk.
“Mother is coming,” she said.
“And?” Margaret came over to watch over Dawna’s shoulder. “What else?”
“That’s all the cards are telling me.”
“Do it again.”
Dawna shuffled the cards and lay them out once more. To Karl, the sequence and distribution of cards meant nothing at all, but he trusted Dawna’s magic, even though she was new at cartomancy.
“Same message,” Dawna said, shaking her head. “Mother is coming.”
Karl’s first three stomachs churned, and the other two threatened to join in. He hoped the cards didn’t mean his mother. Then it would be a very bad day, indeed.
Dawna rotated in her office chair and gave the visitor an apologetic look. “That’s all I’ve got. The cards can only do so much. Since I’ve been practicing, my readings have gotten clearer, but less detailed.”
“Mother is coming.” The man in the suit nodded. “I will pass that information along.” He turned to leave but hesitated. “Ms. Jones, is there any chance you could come upstairs and—”
Dawna, who was already on her feet, designer purse at her side, cut past him on the way to the door. “It’s well past five o’clock, Alistair. That means I should be at home by now, with between two and five cats on my lap.” She stepped through the door and called over her shoulder, “If the apocalypse starts up, and you need someone to read cards and confirm the apocalypse is happening, call me. Or not.” Then she was gone.
“Same here,” Gavin said. “Call me if you need someone strong and brave to fight the forces of evil.”
Margaret added on Gavin’s behalf, “Or to zap himself straight home as soon as things get scary.”
The others laughed.
Gavin retaliated. “Alistair, let’s say the apocalypse does happen before the start of work tomorrow. Your best bet is to call Margaret Mills. If the forces of evil are a man—and isn’t it always a man?—Margaret can nag him into a deep depression.”
The others sucked in their breath. All the oxygen seemed to go out of the room.
“Too far,” Margaret said to the gnome, pursing her lips. “Too far, even for you.”
Gavin shrugged, stamped his foot three times, and disappeared. Karl noted it was a clean relocation. Not even a lingering puff of smoke. Even so, Karl would have to speak to the gnome about being a show-off.
Xavier muttered under his breath, “I’ll never get used to that.”
They all filed out past the mayor’s subordinate. Karl was the last to leave, and checked that the door was locked.
He stayed back and stood in the hallway with the mayor’s lackey, Alistair What’s-his-name. He placed a fatherly hand on the fellow’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes.
“My subordinates talk a tough game, but they do care about this town,” Karl said. “It’s just that we’ve had so many false alarms lately.”
Alistair nodded. “I understand perfectly. We’re all exhausted and on edge from these drills.”
“Level with me, son. Is this another drill? A training exercise?”
“No, sir.” He winced. “Not that I know of.”
“Is it true the DWM has an artificial intelligence running their security system?”
Alistair’s eyes widened. “How did you—” He cut himself off. “Sir! I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of any security systems.”
“So, you’re not at liberty to discuss whether or not it’s the AI software triggering all these false alarms we’ve been having?”
Alistair’s forehead beaded with sweat.
Karl nodded. That sweat was more than enough to confirm his theory. Following the incident with the third floor at City Hall, the Department of Water and Magic had stepped up their timeline for implementing their new computer software.
Karl knew very little about computer programming—he could barely figure out where his emails were going when they disappeared into folders—but he did know one thing about the DWM’s security system. It was software, and yet it was not.
He’d seen the blueprints in the mayor’s office. She had left them in plain sight. In plain sight... inside a folder, inside a locked filing cabinet, inside a locked office. But he had seen them with his naked eyes, when he’d been looking around for some information about departmental budget cuts.
He had not taken a photo of the blueprints with his phone—it might have been the clever thing to do, but it would also have placed evidence of his harmless office breakin on “the cloud,” or “the server,” or wherever it was the picture dots from his phone got stored.
However, despite the lack of a photo to remind him, he remembered the details of the blueprint clearly.
The DWM’s new artificial intelligence ran on a computer that was mostly cords, cables, and circuit boards. The usual computer stuff. Except this one had a cooling system of tubes filled with black scarabyce blood. And, at the center of the central processing unit, there was a heart. A beating heart. Salvaged from one of those person-eating Droserakops plants, or animals, or whatever they were.
In a handwritten note, the architect of the blueprints stressed that the heart was a safety feature, and not evil at all. If anything were to go wrong with the AI, there was a fail-safe to keep Codex from infecting the internet. The system could be shut down by manually disconnecting the beating heart.
That made perfect sense to Karl. For all he knew, every electronic device had a tiny beating heart inside of it. Why else would the darn things randomly shut down or inexplicably die without so much as a warning?
Karl headed home, his thoughts turning to what he would have for his first dinner, then his second dinner, and both desserts.
Chapter 24
ZARA RIDDLE
The object-location spell pulled me all the way to the Wisteria Police Department.
Then the trail went cold. I tried to find the thread again, the magical thread pulling me along, but it was like trying to remember a dream in the morning while the dream is being recalled back to the Dream Warehouse.
Where to next? Should I head home and wait by the phone? Boring.
I paced in front of the WPD entrance, doing some serious soul searching. Was it really the object-location spell drawing me there, or something else? Was my crush on a certain silver-eyed detective messing with my magic?
Or could my compulsion to be there his doing? His kind did have powers over the minds of others—powers he’d been vague about.
I took a seat on one of the concrete planters outside the front doors. I twisted my body to look at the plants, and touched the green leaves sprouting in the box. These planter boxes could use some love, I thought. Geraniums are fine, but...
My mind flooded with Latin names for plants.
Hello, Tansy Wick.
The spirit of Tansy Wick wasn’t actually there. She had moved on months ago, but some of her residue remained, haunting me. The plants had brought the echoes back. I’d sat on the edge of that same concrete planter not long ago, and I’d done something that seemed logical at the time. I’d informed a ghost that she was dead. The results had not been pretty. The spirit’s rage had knocked me unconscious, and given my aunt quite the scare.
But now, on a sunny summer evening, the memory felt distant and contained.
Because it was contained.
Thanks to my rezoning spell, where I’d rezoned myself as a library of sorts, and the visiting ghosts as books, I was now impervious to full possession. Some others in the magical community had expressed concern that the spell might have unintended side effects. But so far, everything was working out.
I rubbed some velvety geranium petals between my fingers. They were as red as fresh blood. Had I solved my ghost-possession problem only to encounter a whole new problem? The one in which I was attracted to a supernatural being who could be my undoing, who could su
ck my remaining witch powers right out of me? That had to be the reason why witches were, as Maisy had informed me, drawn to bloodsuckers like, well... like my cat Boa was drawn to deli ham.
They were bad for us.
Bentley could be my undoing.
So what if he is? The question whispered through my mind.
So what if he did take away my powers? Life had been easier since my rezoning. I’d been happier than ever lately.
What if I could be even happier without any powers at all? I could focus on being a librarian. I could focus on parenting Zoey—not that she needed me much. I could find new hobbies, or go back to scuba diving lessons and take the next level.
Sitting in the sunshine, I lost myself in daydreams of a normal Zara Riddle, living a normal life, knowing about magic but without magic of her own. Without all the responsibilities that came with it.
CLIP-CLOP CLIP-CLOP.
The approach of a hoofed creature startled me from my thoughts.
I looked up to find that the clip-clop sound wasn’t coming from a goat or a small pony, as it had sounded, but a woman in hard-soled shoes. She was compact in build, in her forties, with a head full of frizzy, gray hair.
She was Margaret Mills, one of the few people in Wisteria I dreaded bumping into.
Every time I’d seen the woman and she’d seen me, something unpleasant had happened. The first time we met, she’d chewed me out for wearing fur—even though the fur was very much alive, and also my father. She’d also blamed me and my family for a bad day on the mini golf range.
I’d avoided her successfully a few times, but we had met up again three days earlier, on Friday. She had been picking up Thai food at Kin Khao at the same time I’d been there. Mrs. Meesang accidentally shorted Margaret’s takeout order, and Margaret blamed me for the mix-up. Me! Simply for being there at the same time she was.
I grabbed a twig from the geraniums and rubbed my thumb over it. I could cast a glamour spell to hide myself as a bush. If I acted quickly, without hesitation...
Too late. She’d definitely seen me.
The frizzy-haired woman clip-clopped to a halt in front of me. She put her hands on her sturdy hips and demanded, “What are you doing, and why are you drawing me into it?”
I tucked a stand of hair behind my ear and squinted at the sun, which was almost blocked by her mass of hair.
“I’m just sitting on a concrete planter in a public place,” I said. “Enjoying the sunshine.” I smiled. “As one does on a fine day such as this.”
“But you’re using me.” She stomped one of her hard-soled shoes, reminding me of a rhinoceros. Be careful, I thought. The wild rhinoceros was not as deadly as the Nile crocodile or hippopotamus, who together killed more than three thousand humans annually, but the rhino was definitely on the list of deadly animals to watch out for.
Mrs. Mills continued to stand in front of me, partly blocking the sun, waiting for a response to her vague accusation.
I cocked my head to the side. “Mrs. Mills, have you lost your mind?” I’d meant to continue our exchange in a more pleasant, less confrontational manner, but her directness had a way of burning away my social niceties.
“Zara Riddle, I know you’re using me to triangulate a lost object. It has to be you. Zinnia’s out of town, and Maisy would never do this without my permission. And the other one, well, I’d like to see her try a spell this sophisticated. She can’t even keep dog hair off her uniform.”
“A-ha!” I jumped off the concrete planter, my puffy skirt flouncing around me playfully. “You’re the fourth member of the coven.”
Her gray eyes flashed. “Say it a little louder, Zara. I don’t think the whole town heard you.”
“Mrs. Mills,” I said, smiling. “May I call you Margaret?”
She gave me a wary look. “Sure.”
I offered her my hand to shake.
She reluctantly shook my hand.
As our palms touched, an image flashed into my mind. Margaret Mills was on the floor, wrapped from head to toe in packing tape, like a large, strange, very angry cocoon. The image was gone just as quickly as it had come. I didn’t know what the packing tape was about, but I had a feeling that whenever an unfortunate thing happened to Margaret Mills, she’d done something to deserve it.
She stared up at me for a moment, then said, in a civil tone, “You don’t know about me, do you?”
“Not until now.” I shook my head. “And if you are being drawn into that object-location spell I cast, I apologize. I didn’t mean to pull you into it, I swear.” I held up my hand. “My word is—”
“Don’t,” she said, cutting me off. “Don’t waste your energy on a bond. I believe you.” She looked down and adjusted the hem of her jacket. “I may have overreacted. It happens on very rare occasions.”
She overreacted only on rare occasions? I stifled a snort. She’d overreacted every single time we’d interacted. Now I understood why my aunt had held off so long on introducing the two of us.
“Margaret,” I said tentatively, feeling uncomfortable using her first name, even though I’d gotten permission. “You were saying something about my spell drawing you here? Some sort of triangulation? Can you explain that to me slowly, like I’m a novice, which I am?”
She held up three fingers. “Three points in the triangle. Me, you, and the lost object. We’re both here now, which means whatever you’re looking for isn’t far away.” Her eyes grew wide and serious. “Is the lost object that missing woman I heard about on the news? Zara, you can’t use that spell on the living.”
“I know,” I said. “I used the spell on a doll, from a dollhouse.”
“A doll?” Her face reddened. “You exposed me over a doll?” She drew back a few steps, as though planning to cast upon me a curse so vile and messy it might splash back onto her.
“Whatever you’re going to do, please don’t,” I said, holding up both hands. “The doll I’m looking for is connected to the missing woman, and there’s more. You know how they said on the news that she disappeared along with a dog? It’s not just any dog. It’s a shifter. A little kid. He’s only ten.”
“You’re lying to me. Ten-year-olds can’t shift.”
“He’s a special case,” I said.
She rushed forward, charging at me.
I, being the brave witch I am, flinched as I let out a strangled scream.
She grabbed both of my hands and squeezed them urgently. “A child is missing?”
“Yes,” I managed.
Her eyes filled with tears. “Why didn’t you say so? We have to find him. We have to do something! We have to find this doll of yours, if it’ll help.”
“Well, I don’t know how much it will help...”
She squeezed my hands so hard I was thankful to have supernatural strength and healing. “Oh, Zara. We have to find that baby boy. That poor defenseless thing!”
“I wouldn’t say he’s defenseless...”
She squeezed my hands again. “He’s a child!”
“He is,” I said. “Thank you for helping. I really appreciate it. His family will, too.”
Chapter 25
Magic makes for strange bedfellows.
My former enemy had become my ally; Margaret Mills held my hands as we cast a booster spell on my object-location spell.
This time, the signal came in strong and clear.
“The doll is inside the WPD,” I said, absolutely certain this time. “On the second floor.”
She let go of my hands. “You’ll be able to hold the connection without me now.” She took a step back, reluctantly, it seemed. “Good luck.”
“You’re not coming with me?” Moments earlier, she’d been hysterical about the idea of a missing child, and now she was just walking away?
Her eyes squeezed nearly shut. “I can’t,” she said, sounding broken. “I have an appointment. I have to meet my divorce lawyer.”
“Oh, Margaret! You’re getting divorced? I’m so sorry.” Suddenly, a
ll her crabbiness toward me seemed justifiable. The woman was going through something terrible. But she’d been so patient and kind to me moments earlier, when we’d cast our spell.
I barely knew her, and I used to dislike her, but now everything was different. We’d shared magic. We’d worked together for a good cause. She was gruff on the outside, but underneath that tough rhino hide, she was good. Margaret Mills was a good witch!
I closed the distance between us and grabbed her hands again, this time to offer comfort.
She squeezed my fingers and swallowed hard. We were still inside a sound bubble, and thanks to our connection through our shared magic, I could feel the beating of her heart. I felt it beating alongside my own, faster by a quarter beat.
Her heart slowed, matching the pace of mine. “Don’t you waste another second worrying about my stupid divorce,” she said. “What’s done is done.”
“Your husband is an idiot,” I said. “I don’t even know his name, but I know he’s a fool to let you go.”
“Mike,” she said. “And you’re absolutely right about him being an idiot. We’ve been married all these years, and he still doesn’t know who I am.” She looked away briefly, then back at me. “But don’t worry about him, or me. Get yourself into that building, find the doll, and then find that little boy. If you need help later, let me know.”
“How? Is there a spell? An all-coven-members smoke signal?”
She smirked as she pulled her hands from mine. “I’m in the phone book,” she said. “Under Mills.”
*
After wishing Margaret good luck with her divorce lawyer, I entered the WPD.
Getting past security, and then up to the second floor was no problem at all for this witch.
As I turned down a hallway, I spotted a familiar face walking toward me: Persephone Rose.
“Ms. Riddle!” She stopped in her tracks and fidgeted with her thick, dark bangs frantically, as though she’d hidden a tiny weapon in there and was about to draw it on me in self defense.
“Ms. Rose,” I replied. “Isn’t this fun? You dropped by my workplace last week, and now I’m dropping by yours.”
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